814 

H86SOC 

1913 


TONGUE 

BY 
ELEEPTT  HVHHRRk 

(FRH    ELBERTV^) 


THE    ROY^ROFTER? 

EH5T  Hl/RORFl  ERIE  TOl/hTY •  n.Y 


HISTORICAL-SONET 


SO  THIS  THEN  IS  THE 

PREACHMENT 

ENTITLED 

CHICAGO 
TONGUE 


AS  WRITTEN  BY 

FRA  ELBERTUS 

AND  DONE  INTO  PRINT  BY 

THE  ROYCROFTERS 

AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN 

EAST  AURORA 

NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1913 
By  Elbeti  HubbaiJ 


Pallabe  of  Beab  &nocfeerg 

fltj/  vftCichael  £%Conahan 

(  V 

Nemo  me  impune  lacessil:  '  'No  one  hammers  me  with  impunity. 

Now  this  was  the  Chant  I  heard  them  rant 

When  a  sudden  coolness  slid 
Down  Hell's  concave,  and  a  solace  gave 

To  each  gentleman  on  his  grid. 
From  each  sprite  in  bale  came  a  gruesome  wail, 

As  the  madd'ning  chorus  spread; 
And  they  sang  a  song  that  was  loud  and  long  — 

The  Ballade  of  Knockers  dead. 

"Oho  for  the  Hand  that 's  light  and  bland 

The  Hammer  to  swing,  sans  fear, 
On  the  Cerebrum  or  the  Tympanum 

Or  the  Knot  behind  the  Ear ! 
Not  a  wound  shall  tell  how  the  thing  befell, 

When  the  whimpering  Soul  has  fled, 
And  the  crowner's  quest  shall  guess  the  rest- 

Here  chortled  the  Knockers  dead. 


*T  is  a  delicate  joy  and  a  sweet  employ 

To  rive  the  Fool  from  his  breath, 
But  a  finer  Art  than  the  Thugs  impart 

Was  ours,  and  the  Second  Death ! 
For  the  Game  we  stalked  in  freedom  walked, 

Nor  dreamed  that  his  pathway  led 
To  the  coup  de  grace  that  leaves  no  trace — 

Hurrah  for  us  Knockers  dead ! 

For  this  is  the  Work  that  none  may  shirk, 

And  thus  does  the  sentence  run, 
That  One  shall  believe  and  One  deceive 

'Till  the  human  web  be  spun. 
Yea,  a  man  shall  smile,  heart-free  from  guile, 

On  him  who  his  life  may  shed; 
Nor  shall  he  say  Nay,  though  the  Slayer  slay — " 

Applause  from  the  Knockers  dead. 


And  many  's  the  Wight  on  earth  tonight 

That  sleeps  without  a  fear 
For  his  Cerebrum  or  his  Tympanum 

Or  the  Knot  behind  the  Ear. 
But  well  we  know  when  the  mystic  blow 

From  the  Hammer's  helve  is  sped ; 
And  the  exquisite  Jest  brings  balm  and  rest 

To  the  Souls  of  the  Knockers  dead. 

"Let  the  worldling  sing  of  an  idle  thing, 

The  faith  of  the  marriage-tie  : 
And  the  Dotard  bland  of  the  gentle  hand 

He  will  clasp  till  Death  come  nigh  — 
But  the  Kiss  that  kills  and  the  hand  that  stills 

The  Fool  in  a  sleep  of  lead, 
Are  doing  their  work  sans  let  or  shirk — 

Ho!  ho!"  laughed  the  Knockers  dead. 


"But  of  all  that  fall  'neath  the  silent  Mall- 

A  number  that  knows  no  end — 
The  spiciest  draught  our  souls  have  quaffed 

Is  the  Friend  unto  his  Friend ! 
He  leadeth  him  on  till  doubt  be  gone 

And  love  hath  his  bosom  fed, 
Then  he  yerketh  him  here  behind  the  Ear!'* 

Loud  yammered  the  Knockers  dead. 

So  this  was  the  Chant  I  heard  them  rant 

When  a  sudden  coolness  slid 
Down  Hell's  hot  spine,  like  a  healing  wine 

To  each  gentleman  on  his  grid. 
And  I  knew  in  sooth  they  had  sung  the  truth, 

Though  I  shrank  from  its  meaning  dread - 
That  Knockers  are  most  till  they  yield  the  ghost, 

And  the  rest  are  Knockers  dead ! 


Arise,  my  God,  and  strike,  for  we  hold  Thee  just, 
Strike  dead  the  whole  weak  race  of  venomous  worms 
That  sting  each  other  here  in  the  dust. 

— Tennyson. 


ILLIAM  T.  STEAD  once 
wrote  some  things  about 
Chicago.  Some  of  the  items 
he  penned  were  not  wholly 
complimentary.  The  intense 
activity  of  the  place,  in  the 
opinion  of  Mr.  Stead,  had 
evolved  a  certain  impatience  and  often  an 
ungenerous  quality  of  mind  that  revealed 
itself  in  heresy-trials,  divorce-mills,  political 
fights  where  aldermen  defied  judges,  judges 
defied  the  legislature,  and  legislators  in  turn 
challenged  the  governors.  To  the  English  vis- 
itor the  newspapers  were  unnecessarily  busy 
with  charges,  accusations  and  indictments, 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 


and  everywhere,  even  in  parlors,  scandal, 
defamation  and  vituperation  seemed  to 
abound. 

"Chicago  averages  a  murder  a  day,  not 
counting  all  those  who  are  done  to  death 
by  Chicago  Tongue,"  said  Mr.  Stead. 
Israel  Zangwill,  countryman  and  friend  of 
Mr.  Stead,  visiting  Chicago  some  time  after, 
was  escorted  about  the  city  by  a  Committee 
to  See  the  Sights.  Among  other  places  of 
interest  he  was  taken  to  the  Stockyards, 
where  luncheon  was  served  for  the  party. 
During  the  meal  a  Pert  Miss,  seated  next  to 
the  guest  of  honor,  asked  him  this  question : 
"Mr.  Zangwill,  how  do  you  like  Chicago 
Ham?" 

The  Dreamer  of  the  Ghetto  raised  his  sor- 
rowful face  and  quietly  said,  "I  like  it,  I  like 
it — much  better  than  Chicago  Tongue!" 

[10] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

A  thousand  years  before  Christ,  Solomon 
said  some  wholesome  truths  about  this 
matter  of  Tongue.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
he  had  any  prophetic  vision  of  the  Chicago 
article,  and  really  there  is  no  proof  that 
Chicago  Tongue  is  any  worse  than  any  other 
brand;  but  let  it  stand  as  the  type  of  a  Bad 
Thing. 

A  tragic,  though  perhaps  not  remarkable, 
case  of  Chicago  Tongue  came  to  my  atten- 
tion a  few  years  ago  5$  It  seems  that  a 
good-natured  and  somewhat  talkative  man 
remarked  in  a  little  Bohemian  company  that 
a  certain  artist,  known  to  those  present, wore 
trousers  that  bagged  beautifully  at  the  knee. 
€J  A  man  and  a  woman  in  the  party,  who 
had  a  well-defined  case  of  artistic  jeal- 
ousy toward  the  voluble  man,  repeated 
the  remark  to  the  artist  who  was  re- 

[in 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

ferred  to.  The  woman  repeated  the 
remark  in  the  morning,  and  the  little 
artist,  of  a  sensitive  and  gentle  type,  with  no 
capacity  for  horseplay,  was  just  a  trifle 
nettled.  And  when  the  man  told  him  the 
same  thing,  with  varying  accent  and  in- 
flection, in  the  afternoon,  the  matter  took 
on  a  rather  serious  shape.  A  few  days  after, 
the  artist  met  the  gossipy  woman  again,  and 
he  questioned  her  as  to  what  had  been 
said.  She  repeated  the  remark  about  Pants, 
with  gesticulations,  genuflexions,  shrugs  and 
curves;  and  wishing  to  prove  her  friendship, 
warned  the  artist  to  be  on  his  guard  against 
those  who  were  trying  to  unhorse  him. 
The  more  the  artist  thought  of  the  matter, 
the  more  sure  he  was  that  this  remark 
about  his  raiment  really  meant  that  he  was 
a  man  devoid  of  taste,  lacking  in  refinement 

[12] 


C   H   I  C  A  G  O      T  O   N   CUE 

if  not  decency,  and  totally  unfit  to  associate 
with  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Each  time  he 
met  his  alleged  friends  they  pumped  the 
poison  into  him.  The  matter  preyed  upon 
the  man's  mind  until  he  could  neither  eat, 
sleep  nor  work.  He  sought  out  his  traducer, 
insulted  him  openly,  and  got  himself  well 
chastised.  His  violence  lost  him  his  position, 
and  a  long  season  of  dissipation  and  idle- 
ness followed,  with  golden  moments  lost 
and  lost  forever.  The  last  I  heard  of  the  man 
and  woman  who  had  so  unwittingly  com- 
bined to  work  the  ruin  of  their  friend,  they 
had  turned  on  each  other  and  were  rending 
reputations  to  ragtime. 

tj[  The  incident  just  mentioned  sounds  like 
an  extreme  case,  but  I  hardly  think  it  is,  for 
the  mischief-makers  are  at  work  in  a  similar 
way  on  every  hand.  Should  the  Angel 

[13] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

Gabriel  come  to  me  and  in  a  confidential 
undertone  declare  that  a  certain  man,  any 
man  or  any  angel,  was  a  vilifier  of  truth,  a  snare 
to  the  innocent,  a  pilferer,  a  sneak,  a  robber 
of  graveyards,  I  would  say:  "Gabriel,  you 
are  troubled  with  incipient  paranoia — I  do 
not  believe  a  word  of  what  you  say.  The  man 
you  mention  may  not  be  a  saint,  but  he  is 
probably  just  as  good  as  you  or  I.  In  fact, 
1  think  he  must  be  very  much  like  you,  for 
we  are  never  interested  in  either  a  person  or 
a  thing  that  does  not  bear  some  direct  rela- 
tionship to  ourselves.  Then,  Gabriel,  do  you 
not  remember  the  words  of  Bishop  Begum, 
who  said  that  no  man  applies  an  epithet  to 
another  that  can  not  with  equal  truth  be 
applied  to  himself?" 

When  we  remember  that  hoarse,  guttural 
cry  of  "Away  with  him — away  with  him!*' 

[H] 


CHICAGO      TO   N   CUE 

and  when  we  recall  that  some  of  the  best 
and  noblest  men  who  have  ever  lived  have 
been  reviled  and  traduced,  indicted  and  ex- 
ecuted, by  so-called  good  men — certainly 
men  who  were  sincere — how  can  we  open 
our  hearts  to  the  tales  of  discredit  told  of 
any  man?  The  Billingsgate  Calendar  has 
been  exhausted  in  attempts  to  describe 
Walt  Whitman,  and  the  lexicon  of  abuse 
has  been  used  to  hammer  the  heads  of  such 
men  as  Richard  Wagner,  Victor  Hugo, 
Count  Tolstoy  and  William  Morris.  Know- 
ing these  things,  as  every  one  does,  shall  we 
imitate  folly,  accept  concrete  absurdity  for 
our  counsel  and  guide,  and  take  stock  in 
Chicago  Tongue? 

The  entire  Salem  Witchcraft  insanity  was 
nothing  but  a  bad  case  of  Chicago  Tongue. 
Much  of  the  martyrdom  and  bloodshed  of 

[15] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

the  past  can  be  traced  directly  to  the  same 
cause  *£  Nations  have  gone  to  war  because 
some  princeling  has  charged  that  a  King 
stuck  his  tongue  in  his  cheek  and  bit  his 
thumb  when  another  King  was  mentioned  — 
nothing  but  Chicago  Tongue ! 
Do  not  deceive  yourself  with  the  vain 
thought  that  women  hold  a  monopoly  on 
Chicago  Tongue — men  set  them  a  pace  in  this 
direction  that  they  can  never  hope  to  equal. 
The  gossip  of  women  is  usually  of  a  pattypan 
order,  and  childishly  inconsequential  com- 
pared with  that  of  men. 
One  peculiarity  of  Chicago  ffongue  is  that 
when  it  is  passed  along  from  one  person  to 
another  it  takes  on  ptomains.  The  original 
remark,  uttered  in  a  certain  circle,  may  have 
been  utterly  devoid  of  poison;  but  when  the 
repetition  comes,  in  a  different  atmosphere, 

[16] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

to  different  hearers,  told  by  another  man, 
the  wit  that  once  disinfected  the  thing  is 
gone,  and  we  have  only  dead,  stale,  tainted, 
unprofitable  Chicago  Tongue.  And  so  you 
see  how  a  person  who  repeats  an  unkind 
remark  is  probably  doing  a  much  greater 
mischief  than  the  one  who  first  voiced  it. 
The  man  who  repeats  the  story,  and  thus 
retails  the  poison,  fails  to  supply  the  anti- 
dote. Let  his  name  be  anathema. 
The  basic  principle  of  Chicago  Tongue  is 
jealousy.  Jealousy  is  a  social  cancer,  and 
grows  by  what  it  feeds  upon.  And  its  only 
food  is  Chicago  Tongue — the  more  tainted 
the  better. 

I  once  knew  three  intelligent  men  who 
started  giving  one  another  small  doses  of 
Chicago  Tongue,  just  by  way  of  banter.  The 
doses  were  increased,  and  in  a  short  time  all 

[17] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

three  began  really  to  believe  the  stories  they 
had  been  telling  about  a  particular  man  of 
whom  they  were  all  more  or  less  jealous. 
The  cancer  grew  worse — the  poison  was  at 
work — the  trio  held  meetings  behind  locked 
doors  to  devise  a  way  by  which  they  could 
rid  themselves  of  the  supposed  enemy.  As- 
sault and  even  murder  were  on  their  pro- 
posed program.  They  were  wild,  mad,  stark, 
staring  crazy  on  Chicago  Tongue. 
Luckily,  a  sane  man  discovered  them  in 
time,  rapped  them  all  vigorously  over  the 
head,  separated  them  one  from  the  other  so 
they  could  no  longer  infect  one  another  and 
pool  their  poison.  Had  this  separation  not 
been  brought  about,  they  surely  would  have 
all  run  down  a  steep  place  into  the  sea  and 
been  drowned,  as  was  that  herd  of  swine  in 
the  story,  when  the  devils  took  the  rudder. 

[18] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

CJ  If  you  are  a  man,  beware  how  you  let 
any  devil  get  possession  of  your  thinking 
apparatus.  All  devils  use  Chicago  Tongue 
as  bait.  In  way  of  strictest  justice,  though,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  the  dealers  in  Chicago 
Tongue  are  often  innocent  of  wrong  intent — 
that  is,  they  do  not  know  it  is  loaded.  And 
when  the  boomerang  comes  back  they  are 
so  surprised  and  grieved,  and  hurt!  and  they 
lift  their  hands  in  innocence  and  assume  the 
pose  of  martyrdom. 

Every  large  newspaper-office  is  the  scene  of 
a  seething  discontent.  Peace  is  never  de- 
clared— war  reigns  eternally.  The  public 
probably  knows  nothing  of  these  plottings, 
counterplottings,  curses,  revilings,  jealousies. 
The  trouble  is  under  the  surface,  just  as 
much  as  are  the  loves,  jealousies  and  heart- 
aches Below-Stairs.  The  impassive  face  of 

[19] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

Jeems,  as  he  stands  behind  his  master's  chair, 
tells  no  tales. 

It  is  the  business  of  Jeems  to  see  nothing — 
and  everything — to  hear  nothing  and  repeat 
nothing.  This  if  he  is  an  artist  in  his  line,  for 
woe  is  Jeems  if  he  brings  the  troubles  of 
Below-Stairs  to  his  master's  ears,  hoping 
thereby  to  find  favor.  For  we  hate  the  man 
who  brings  us  trouble.  In  the  olden  time  the 
messenger  who  brought  tidings  of  disaster 
paid  for  his  temerity  with  his  head.  On  the 
other  hand,  blessed  are  the  feet  of  him  who 
bringeth  glad  tidings;  he  shall  be  rewarded 
with  a  necklace  of  gold,  and  he  shall  choose 
for  his  own  from  the  fairest  daughters  of 
earth. 

fl  1  have  spoken  of  the  constant  friction, 
faction  and  fight  that  exist  in  every  newspa- 
per-office. The  truth  of  this  is  classic,  but  the 

[20] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

Underground  Fight  is  everywhere  where 
many  men  are  gathered  together  in  a  like 
occupation.  The  Army  is  a  hotbed  of  gossip. 
The  Church  is  just  as  bad,  and  if  a  history  of 
ecclesiastical  rancor  were  written  it  would 
reveal  an  inferno  of  hate.  And  then  the  Sons 
of  /Esculapius — every  blessed  one  of  them 
carries  two  or  three  hammers  in  his  kipsy, 
this  besides  the  one  he  has  constantly  in 
use.  In  fact,  the  Sons  have  formed  them- 
selves into  one  gigantic  orchestra,  and  the 
only  piece  they  play  is  the  Anvil  Chorus. 
€J  Newspaper-offices  are  mentioned  because 
there  the  pot  seems  to  seethe  and  boil  and 
spit  with  greatest  glee.  Hate,  jealousy  and 
rage  continually  feed  the  flame.  Possibly  the 
reason  the  fires  of  strife  are  never  banked  in  a 
newspaper-office  is  because  the  men  work 
under  an  intense  nervous  pressure.  There  is 

[21] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

hot  haste,  and  broken  hours  of  rest,  and 
always  stimulants  in  way  of  tobacco,  drink 
and  drugs.  Hence  there  are  sharp  answers, 
snubbings,  marble  faces,  icy  hands  and  bit- 
ter hearts;  for  despondency  follows  fast 
where  good-cheer  is  reinforced  with  drink. 
Then  beside,  three-fourths  of  the  matter 
printed  in  the  average  daily  paper  is  a  rec- 
ord of  strife,  and  the  workers  become 
imbued  with  it.  When  a  young  man  goes 
into  a  metropolitan  newspaper-office  as  a 
reporter,  he  is  given  a  table  among  forty 
other  tables,  where  men  with  hats  over 
their  eyes  write  in  feverish  haste.  Possibly 
here  and  there  are  men  sitting  in  idleness 
with  feet  on  the  table.  These  men  have 
done  their  tasks  for  the  day  and  are  watch- 
ing the  clock,  waiting  for  the  hour  when 
they  are  allowed  to  leave.  Our  new  man  not 

[22] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

having  much  to  do,  gets  to  talking  with  one 
of  these  idlers — they  go  out  together  to  get 
a  drink.  At  the  bar  are  other  young  men, 
and  these  are  pointed  out  by  the  new-found 
friend,  and  jerky  scraps  of  their  history 
given,  which  seem  to  cover  every  crime  in 
the  calendar,  and  every  phase  of  iniquity 
that  brutish  beings  could  devise.  These  so- 
called  rogues  are  employees  of  the  same 
concern  that  employs  the  Glib  Informer. 
The  Greenhorn  remarks  that  they  do  not 
look  so  bad  as  that,  and  then  he  is  reassured 
by  facts  and  dates,  and  times  and  places. 
Should  the  Greenhorn  stick  to  his  new 
friend,  he  is  quickly  introduced  into  a  clique 
and  becomes  a  part  of  the  hate  and  jealousy 
and  cruel  bickering  of  the  place.  He  is 
pushed  this  way  and  that  by  those  with 
stronger  minds — or  more  experience — takes 

[23] 


part  in  plottings  to  oust  certain  men,  not 
fully  knowing  why,  and  in  a  few  months — 
a  year  perhaps — gets  the  Blue  Envelope 
himself.  He  does  not  realize  why  he  should 
be  discharged,  because  he  is  not  aware  that 
hate  and  jealousy  have  inoculated  his  mind, 
and  these  things  are  beginning  to  reveal 
themselves  in  his  work.  The  life  of  a  man  in 
any  one  metropolitan  newspaper-office  is 
very  short.  A  year,  say,  is  about  the  limit, 
when  out  he  goes,  penniless,  to  look  for 
another  job. 

Should  any  man  hold  his  place  for  two  years 
or  more,  it  is  because  he  has  religiously 
avoided  mixing  in  factions;  he  has  lent  his 
ear  to  no  plots ;  listened  to  no  scandal ;  bore  no 
bad  news;  gloried  in  no  man's  downfall. 
And  when  you  find  a  veteran  like,  say, 
Chester  S.  Lord  of  The  Sun,  you  know 

[24] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

him  to  be  a  man  who  is  above  all  idle  gos- 
sip, bickering,  quibbling  and  jealousy — who 
takes  no  part  in  schemes  and  plots,  and 
who  will  not  harken  to  them  in  others.  The 
man  who  can  not  enjoy  a  good  position 
without  plotting  to  dislodge  some  one  else, 
is  laying  a  fuse  that  will  cause  himself  to  be 
lifted  into  space  very  shortly. 
A  ludicro-tragic  feature  of  Chicago  Tongue 
is  that  those  who  deal  in  it  most,  always  are 
full  of  grievances  and  wails  because,  they 
allege,  other  folks  are  talking  about  them. 
Indeed,  this  is  their  excuse  for  the  constant 
use  of  the  hammer — that  some  one  is 
"knocking  on  them.'*  They  mistake  the 
sound  of  their  own  hammers  for  that  of  others. 
Any  man  who  plots  another's  undoing  is 
digging  his  own  grave.  Every  politician  who 
voices  innuendoes,  and  hints  of  base  wrong 

[25] 


C  H  1CAGO      TONGUE 

about  a  rival,  is  blackening  his  own  charac- 
ter. For  a  time  he  may  seem  to  succeed,  but 
the  end  is  sure — it  is  defeat  and  death.  All 
those  plotters  of  the  French  Revolution  who 
worked  the  guillotine  in  double  shifts  were 
at  last  dragged  to  the  scaffold  and  pushed 
under  the  knife. 

The    hate  we  sow  finds  lodgment  in  our 
hearts,  and  the  crop  is  nettles  that  Fate  un- 
relentingly demands  we  shall  gather. 
They  who  live  by  the  hammer  shall  perish 
by  the  hammer. 

If  you  work  in  a  department-store,  a  bank, 
a  railroad-office,  a  factory,  I  beg  of  you,  on 
your  life,  do  not  knock.  Speak  ill  of  no  one, 
and  listen  to  no  idle  tales.  Whether  the  bit- 
ter things  told  are  true  or  not,  has  no  bear- 
ing on  the  issue.  To  repeat  an  unkind  truth 
is  just  as  bad  as  to  invent  a  lie.  If  some  one 

[26] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

has  spoken  ill  of  me,  do  not  be  so  foolish 
as  to  hope  to  curry  favor  by  telling  me  of  it. 
The  "housecleaning"  that  occurs  in  the  offices 
of  companies  and  corporations  every  little 
while  comes  as  a  necessity.  In  a  small  estab- 
lishment the  head  of  the  house  can  usually 
pooh-pooh  the  bickering  out  of  the  window; 
but  in  large  concerns  where  many  men  are 
troubled  with  lint  on  the  lungs,  and  every- 
body seems  to  have  forgotten  his  work,  just 
to  "chew,"  then  self-protection  prompts  the 
manager  to  clean  house.  It  is  the  only  thing 
he  can  do  to  preserve  the  life  of  the  concern 
— out  go  the  bacteria.  It  is  said  that  James 
Gordon  Bennett,  owner  of  the  New  York 
Herald t  comes  home  from  Europe,  only  to 
discharge,  peremptorily,  every  employee  in 
his  service.  At  regular  intervals  the  place 
gets  honeycombed  with  plot  and  counterplot, 

[27] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

hate,  jealousy  and  factional  folly,  and  the 
master,  having  no  time  to  sift  the  lies  or  sit 
in  judgment  on  fishwife  gossip,  just  cleans 
the  coop  from  cellar  to  cockloft  of  good  and. 
bad  alike. 

It  is  very  likely  that  if  Mr.  Bennett  remained 
in  personal  charge  of  his  estate  he  could 
keep  the  Chicago  Tongue  in  subjection,  but 
being  away,  hate  permeates  the  structure  and 
the  Augean  act  is  positively  necessary. 
I  suppose  there  are  institutions  where  Chi- 
cago Tongue  is  to  a  great  degree  obliterated, 
through  the  strong  personality  of  the  man 
at  the  helm.  I  have  seen  schools  where  the 
generous  spirit  of  one  man  filled  the  whole 
place.  But  the  man  who  is  great  enough  to 
flavor  a  newspaper  plant  with  love  and  pa- 
tience has,  I  fear,  not  yet  been  found.  And  of 
this  never  for  a  moment  doubt,  that  the  man 

[28] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

who  successfully  manages  a  great  railroad, 
bank,  factory  or  other  enterprise,  is  one  who 
neither  listens  to,  nor  bears  tales  to  any  per- 
son of  what  this  one  says  or  does.  He  treats  all 
with  courtesy  and  fairness,  and  like  the  great 
and  loving  Lincoln,  when  his  generals  were 
accused,  deducts  seventy-five  per  cent  from 
every  accusation  and  throws  the  remainder 
in  the  wastebasket — actions  alone  count. 
Where  many  men  are  employed,  there  are 
always  some  who  are  full  of  plots  and  of 
schemes  for  more  pay,  shorter  hours  or  favors 
generally.  They  scheme  to  have  one  foreman 
"bounced**  in  order  to  have  another  man, 
who  will  help  their  cause,  put  in  charge. 
Should  success  follow  their  efforts,  and  the 
old  foreman  be  replaced,  the  first  move  of 
the  new  man  will  probably  be  to  discharge 
the  conspirators  who  helped  him. 

[29] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

Men  who  conspire,  and  plot,  and  who  lend  a 
ready  ear  to  the  idea  of  a  strike,  are  marked 
on  every  time-book  for  dismissal  when  the 
hour  is  ripe.  And  whenever  you  find  a  news- 
paper-man or  a  printer  who  spends  half  of 
his  time  looking  for  a  job,  you  can  rest  assured 
that  he  is  one  who  carries  a  large  cargo  of 
Chicago  Tongue. 

You  can  never  stand  in  with  the  boss  by  tell- 
ing him  of  those  who  are  laggards.  The  only 
way  you  can  win  his  favor  is  by  setting  the  loaf- 
ers a  pace.  He  knows  all  about  the  loafers 
— God  help  him !  for  if  he  did  not  he  could 
never  successfully  manage  an  institution. 
No  man  can  ever  succeed  who  hopes  to  get 
a  better  position  by  defaming  or  dragging 
down  the  reputation  of  another.  There  is  but 
one  way  to  win,  and  that  is  to  do  your  work 
well,  and  speak  ill  of  no  one,  not  even  as  a 

[30] 


CHICAGO      TONGUE 

matter  of  truth.  Any  other   course  leads  to 

fears,  tears,    woful  waste  of  life-force,  and 

oblivion.  There  is  only  one  way  to  win  the 

favor  of  good  men,  and  there  is  only 

one  way  you  can  secure  the  smile  of 

God,  and  that  is  to  do  your  work 

as  well  as   you    can,    and 

be  kind,  and 

BE  KIND. 


[31] 


SO  HERE  ENDETH  THE  PREACHMENT  ENTITLED 
"CHICAGO  TONGUE,"  WRITTEN  BY  FRA  ELBERTUS, 
AND  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE  ROYCROFTERS, 
AT  THEIR  SHOP  IN  EAST  AURORA,  NEW  YORK 


HERE 


can 


be 


no  secret  in 
life  and  mor- 
als, because 
Nature  has 
provided  that 
every  beautiful  thought  you 
know  and  every  precious 
sentiment  you  feel  shall 
shine  out  of  your  face,  so 
that  all  who  are  great 
enough  may  see,  appreciate, 
know,  understand  and  ap- 
propriate. You  keep  things 
only  by  giving  them  away. 


